


Gene's Vendetta

by Calliecatt93



Series: Bad Things Happen (To Grimmons) Bingo [1]
Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Blood, Hostage Situation, Hurt/Comfort, Kidnapping, Knife Simmons, M/M, Potential Uncomfortable Scenario, Some violent descriptions, Torture, knife, mentions of others - Freeform, tied to a pole
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-20
Updated: 2020-02-24
Packaged: 2021-02-27 23:48:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 15,563
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22814110
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Calliecatt93/pseuds/Calliecatt93
Summary: Post-S17. Simmons has been more to himself than usual, and it's affecting his relationship with Grif. One night, Grif goes out. He fails to show back up. An old enemy returns to haunt Simmons, and Grif may be the one to pay the price.
Relationships: Dexter Grif/Dick Simmons
Series: Bad Things Happen (To Grimmons) Bingo [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1640086
Comments: 24
Kudos: 58





	1. A Night Out

Simmons hadn’t spoken to Grif for several days now. The orange soldier was confused as to why. Well okay, all of them had been rather out of it late. All the time travel bullshit had left all of them exhausted and emotionally drained. Even Sarge seemed content with just doing nothing for a while. Though considering the number of shotgun holes he had recently shot into the ceiling, that probably wasn't going to last long. He barely even saw the Blues around since they spent most of the time at the hospital with Wash and Kai was working on some music festival thing.

Simmons though? He spent most of his time cooped up to himself. Whenever Grif he saw him, he was either working on his datapad or organizing through some random shit. He only talked when someone asked him something. Otherwise? He was just… closed up. Even to Grif. He wouldn’t even sleep in the same room, having decided he preferred the sofa. Something that Simmons usually always complained about because he would wake up with a sore back. Cause he was a nerd, of course.

Indeed, the sofa was where Simmons currently was as Grif exited his bedroom, pushing some of his long hair behind his ear. Kai had asked him to come drinking with her so she could get a break from work. More of a demand really, but still. If it got him away from all the weird tension with Simmons, he’d gladly take it. Said nerd looked up from his datapad at the sound of the door opening. He lifted a brow.

“You’re wearing your hair down?”

“Holy shit, you still know how to talk,” replied Grif, “What’s wrong with me wearing my hair down?”

“N-nothing! Forget it!” Simmons turned back to his work, his cheeks dusted pink. 

Grif knew he was evading the question. He only wore his hair down when he was either sleeping or on special occasions. Maybe ‘going to get drunk with my sister’ wasn’t exactly ‘special’, but he didn’t feel like looking for one of his constantly missing hair-ties. Took too much effort, and Simmons would just get mad at him for dirtying up the place.

“I’m going out with Kai,” he said, but Simmons didn’t react, “Got no idea when I’ll coming back. Probably be too drunk of my ass if Kai doesn’t do it first. She sucks at holding her liquor down. Can’t fucking leave her alone without her getitng into some kind of shit with who knwos what kind of asshats.”

He was babbling. It had become a tendency whenever things were too quiet for him. He looked at Simmons, but aside from a soft ‘hmm’, he didn’t respond. That had been his mood since they got back to Chorus. It was starting to get on the orange-soldier’s nerves. Not because he was worried or missed him or anything like that. Nope! It was just… boring when he didn’t have the nerd to pick on, is all.

“Are you ever going to pull the briefs out of your ass and actually talk to me for once?

Simmons stopped with whatever he was doing, though he kept his eyes on the datapad screen.

“Isn’t that what you’re doing now?”

“Yeah, _I_ am,” Grif shot back, “You’ve ignored me for over a week now. Fuck, you’ve been ignoring anyone. You haven't even kissed up to Sarge.”

“I haven’t done that in months, Grif.”

“Why not? You’re acting like the same depressed nerdass you were back in Blood Gulch.”

“Hey, that-!” The cyborg looked at Grif finally, but only to shoot a brief glare at him before looking back to the Datapad, “I’m fine. You’re just overthinking it.”

Grif didn’t believe him. From the look on his face, Simmons didn’t even believe himself. But the Hawaiian man just sighed deeply, turning away from the other.

“Fine, whatever.” he said in a bitter tone, “Why fucking bother? We never talk about shit anyways.”

“There’s nothing to talk about.”

“Yeah, you made that crystal clear, _Dick.”_

With that he stomped over to the door, slamming it behind him. Fuck, he needed a drink now more than ever. He pulled out his phone to text to Kai that he was on his way, making his way down the street and into the night.

* * *

“Morning Simmons!”

The cyborg didn’t reply to Donut’s cheerful greeting. He groaned as he stood up from the sofa, his back feeling strained as he tried to straighten it. How could Grif sleep on those things? How could _anyone_ sleep on them?!

“I’m making pancakes for breakfast.” said Donut who was busy fiddling with the stove, “Want any? I got plenty of batter to fill you up with! Wait, oh darn it! I did it again, didn’t I?”

Again, Simmons didn’t reply as he walked over to the coffee machine. Donut raised a brow, but otherwise kept his attention on his cooking. It was a relief for Simmons that the pink soldier had decided to not bother with anyone else’s business since the whole time incident. It meant that no one was going to prod at him about anything. Just as well because he didn’t want to go into it. Every time he did, he remembered the aliens chasing after him. The stupid, _stupid_ aliens in the stupid, _stupid_ Labryinth. It was so fucking humiliating and embarassing and... _and…_

“Umm… Simmons?” 

He looked up at Donut. But he was looking downward. He followed his gaze to see coffee spewing all over his cyborg arm.

“Shit!” the cyborg pulled back, “Fuck. I’ll, ugh… I’ll get the mop!”

He ran towards the broom closet but stopped when he noticed that Grif’s door was wide open. Right, Grif had gone out last night. Was probably pissed off at him too. Simmons couldn’t blame him though. He was pissed at himself too. He didn't mean to close Grif out, he just... he didn't know how to talk about it. He decided to peek inside, just to make sure that the fatass hadn’t passed out on the floor.

Only to find no one there.

“Fucking _great,”_ he mumbled to himself, “Must have gotten himself drunk stupid.”

“Umm, Simmons? Did you get the mop yet? ”

“Hold on, gotta make sure fatass didn’t pass out in the middle of fucking traffic”

The maroon soldier pulled his phone out. Chorus has been nice enough to provide them each their own since they got back. It was mainly so they could check up on Wash or check with the hospital, but it was certainly useful for when certain dumbassess decided to go out at night with his equally out of control sister and probably end up in some skeevy back-alley.

He dialed Grif’s number, but only got the dial tone. Damn it. He hung up and dialed Kai’s number instead. If anyone was going to know where Grif was, it would be her.

“Fuuuuck, that’s loud. Who is Hell is thhhis?”

“It’s Simmons. Is Grif with you?”

“Oh _hhhheeeey_ t’ere nerdassss, what _upppp_?”

She sounded _very,_ slurred, that much Simmons could tell. That probably meant that Grif was no better. _Great._

“Yeah, hi. Listen, is Grif there?”

“No, why w’uld he be?”

“Umm… because he said that he and you were going drinking?”

“Oh… oh y’ah! T’ats rig’t!,” her tone went form dazed to pissed off, “Fuck you S’mm’ns! Wha’ the fuuck did you do to p’ss him off now?!”

“What?! … I mean I did, but-!”

“Dam’ you shi’ihead! Cause o’ you he cancell’d on me! Had to deal with you being a tightass nerd, tighhtass neeerd!”

“I-I… mean, I…” the cyborg struggled to figure out what to say in a futile effort to defend himself… until the rest of the words fully processed, “Wait… cancelled? He… he left here last night.”

“Wha’?”

“I… I saw him leave. He said he was going out to meet with you.”

“...are you serious?”

Simmons didn’t reply. At this point, Donut had walked over, himself now looking concerned. Fuck. It was one thing for Grif to not make it back home. But to cancel on Kai and lie about it? That… that didn’t feel right.

A ping went off in his ear then. His phone. He pulled back to see a notification… from Grif. He could hear Kai’s voice still, asking something along the lines of ‘what the shit is going on?’ but the cyborg didn’t pay it any mind for now. It was probably fatass telling him that he got lost somewhere and needed him to come pick him up and-.

He opened up the notification and proceeded to scream.

* * *

“Fuuuck, my head…”

That was the first thing that Grif noticed as he woke up. God, his head hurt. Hell, just the effort to open his eyes hurt. But that wasn’t even the worst part. He tried to move a hand to cover his eyes with… only to find that he couldn't move either one. Nor could he barely move his arms.

It was at this point that Grif realized he was standing upright. He felt something… cold at his entire backside. Cold and long. He looked, finding his hands tightly tied behind some kind of tall, old-looking pole. That was… not good.

He couldn't tell where he was. It was dark, and trying to focus only made his head hurt more. Okay, okay. What did he do last night? He had left to go meet up with Kai and get drunk stupid. He had a spat with Simmons over him being an asshole that _really_ made him want to get drunk stupid. He was walking down the street, and then… 

Before he could complete the thought, he heard a door open. He saw a figure walk in. It was still hard to make anything out though. At least, until light suddenly filled the room. He shut his eyes again, groaning at the pain to both his eyes and to his still throbbing head.

“Oh shit you’re already awake!” he heard a… _very_ familiar voice shriek, “Fuck! Go back to being passed out! I wasn't ready yet!”

“Wha…” Grif slowly opened his eyes again and while it was still somewhat blurry, there was no mistaking the maroon-colored shape, “Simmons…?”

“Ha! He fucking wishes!” Not-Simmons replied, “But don’t worry, you’ll get to talk to him soon enough. When you both meet your doom! Mwahaha!”

Okay, this guy was fucking annoying. Wait… annoying… maroon-colored… but not Simmons… that had to mean...

  
“Oh, _God_ _damn it.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is both my first multi-chapter fic AND my first Bad Things Happen Bingo fic! Yay! The prompt was Tied to a Pole, so that' what we're doing. This was actually meant to be a one-shot, but the more I wrote it, the longer it got and... yeah. So it is planned to be, for now, three chapters. I don't think it'll go any higher but never say never. Hope you guy enjoyed this and will enjoy what's to come. Because trust me, neither of our boys are in for a good time, haha!
> 
> Thank you for reading everyone!


	2. Messages

“Alrighty Simmons, breathe in and out. Niiiice and slow now.”

Simmons was doing his best to follow Donut’s instructions. He was doing his best to even out his breathing. To get his hands to release their death grip on the sofa cushions beneath him. Somehow, it wasn’t helping.

“Or do what I do! Pretend that the closest thIng near ya is Grif’s dumb, fat head and shoot it into oblivion!”

That _definitely_ wasn’t helping.

“Umm Sarge, I don’t think that’s going to help in this particular case....”

“Darn, you’re right,” grumbled the red sergeant, “Stupid damn kidnappers, can’t even do the job right! Didn’t even send a ransom note made out of magazines! That’s the most vital step in the book!”

“Sarge!,” Donut squeaked out before turning back to Simmons who has only further tightened his grip ont he sofa, “He… he’s kidding Simmons! You know how Sarge is! He’s just as worried as the rest of us!”

“I am not!,” Donut just gave him a blank loot, “...fine, maybe I am worried… that they’re gonna kill Grif before I get to, obviously!”

Simmons wasn’t even paying attention at that point. Instead, he freed one hand from the death grip to grab his phone. He opened up the message again. Contained within was a photo of Grif. It was dark, the location of the image unrecognizable. Grif was slumped forward, eyes closed. It almost looked like he saw sleeping, which wouldn’t be _that_ big of a concern…

...except for the fact that his arms were clearly bound behind something. Nor was the actual text message that accompanied it. Simmons could feel the goosebumps run up his non-metallic body parts as he read over the words again.

_‘I HVAE UR ORANGE FATASSS! DO NOTHIGN UNTL I CALL U N 1 HR! OTHERWIESS, HE SI DOOOOOOMED! DOOMED I TLL U!!! MWAHAHA!!!_

It was followed by several devil emojis. Simmons wasn't sure what was worse, the unnecessary use of all caps, or the various typos that were so easy to fix. Seriously who aside from everyone he knew did that?! Did no one care for proper typing etiquette anymore?!

Then there was the matter that Grif was… _was…_

“Simmons?”

His head shot up. Both Donut and Sarge were looking at him with raised brows. It was only then that he noticed that his hands were trembling and the cyborg one gripping the sofa had already ripped a small portion from the cushion.

“Oh, ughh… s-sorry!” Reluctantly, he released his grip, his phone dropping onto his knee, “How… how much longer now?”

“About… five more minutes now,” replied Donut, “But why would anyone want to kidnap Grif?”

“Probably because he’s Grif,” replied Sarge, “Probably cheesed some random yahoo off trying to smuggle drugs just like in the good ol’ days. Now he’s dragged us into some mad scheme of some mad, _mad_ individual… at last existence has meaning again, men!”

“Meaning… right…” Simmons leaned back, turning to look at the nearby clock as the seconds clocked down. ‘Existence has meaning’ was why they were in this mess to begin with. Ever since The Labryinth, the cyborg didn't even know what his meaning was now. He thought he’d finally found it. Had finally gained the confidence that he had strived for for so long. Had finally shed away the self-conscious, kiss-assing nerd persona that he had kept himself in. All the insecurities that had ruled him for so long. He felt like he’d finally, _finally_ beaten them for good.

Then he broke due to, of all things, aliens trying to steal his penis.

It had been all that he could think of since the timestream was put back into place. There were no adventures to keep his mind preoccupied. Wash was in mostly stable condition, so he couldn’t worry over that either. He’d buried himself in his work, despite not even really have any wor to begin with. It was either that or practice his knife swings. That helped get the aggression out. But he’d just kept to himself away from everyone. Away from Grif.

Now Grif was kidnapped and being held who knows where, and it was _all his fault._ He should have just talked to him. He should have tried to explain himself better that night. Hell, he hadn’t even been willing to stay in the same room as him all because he felt _that_ sorry for himself. Grif hadn’t even done anything wrong, yet Simmons took it out on him. And now… _now..._

A loud ringing suddenly echoed across the room, starling bringing Simmons out of his thoughts. lt was his phone. He was still for a moment, turning to Sarge and Donut briefly before finally picking the device up with shaky hands. He read the name flashing across the screen.

_Incoming Call: Lazy Fatass_

Grif.

His grip tightened on the device as he looked up at the others. They all looked as confused as he did, however. Donut eventually made some kind of ‘go ahead’ motion though. Simmons turned back to the screen before finally sliding his finger across it. It took him another moment to raise it up to his ear.

“H-Hello?”

There was no response at first, but he heard some mumbling. Something along the lines of ‘ah shit!.’ and the sound of something shuffling around. It was somewhat muffled, but the voice sounded… familiar. Way too familiar, actually. Kind of like he was hearing himself-.

No… it _couldn’t_ be...

_“Okay, ughhh… oh, right! Ahem! Simmons! My mortal enemy! At last, after eons of long and maticulous planning, I have-!”_

“YOU GODDAMN MOTHERFUCKING _ASSHOLE!”_

* * *

Grif snickered as he watched Gene whimper and drop his note cards. The phone was on speaker, and the pure, untamed _rage_ in Simmons’ voice was music to his ears. He would take the satisfaction where he could get it right now as he watched the annoying Not-Simmons scramble to gather up all of his cards up again, smirking all the way.

Gene shot him a glare, which just made Grif shrug, but otherwise turned back to the phone.

“Fuck, umm… w-wait, give me a sec-!”

‘ _No! Fuck you! What did you to Grif?!”_

“Hey, you can’t make demands! _I’m_ the kidnapper! You’re not doing it right!”

“Wait, there’s a correct way to ransom people? Is _that_ way you’re using flashcards?” Grif questioned, “Wow. Fucking criminal mastermind you are, huh?.”

Gene glared at him again, but it was when Simmons spoke that Grif found himself go quiet.

_‘...Grif?’_

Compared to how he sounded ready to reach through the phone to strangle his doppelganger a second ago, the cyborg now sounded… quiet. Concerned, maybe? No, why would Simmons be concerned over him? He had barely even looked in his direction for several days straight now. He couldn’t be worried about _him…_ right?

“A-anyway! Yes, it was _I_ who kidnapped your precious boyfriend Simmons-!”

_“Wait, we’re technically not-!”_

“- _AND_ both he and you will now suffer for the horrible injustices you bestowed upon me and my friends!”

“Oh, you mean when we kicked your guy’s sorry asses and your poor little time machine drill failed?” replied Grif, “Oops. Our bad.”

“Will you shut…?! UGH Fuck it!”

Not-Simmons tossed aside the flashcards and aimed another glare at Grif. But didn’t seem content with just that this time. He reached to his side and pulled something out. Grif couldn’t tell what it was until he found the maroon soldier suddenly before him and felt something cold, something _sharp,_ strike him against the face.

“Ah!”

_‘Grif?!’_ the orange soldier heard as he doubled over, the restraints being the only thing keeping him standing, “ _Grif, what happened?! What did you to him?!”_

Grif didn’t reply, biting his lip hard in a futile effort to null the pain forming over his face. He felt something trail down his cheek, red droplets landing by his foot. Blood. Fuck. He looked up enough to see Gene walking back to the phone, a knife held in his hands. 

“Calm down, he’s fine… for now,” the tone of Gene’s voice caused the orange-soldier to feel chills as he picked up the phone and was again making his way towards, “but unless you want me to send him back in pieces, you’ll shut the fuck up and do as I say.”

Grif wanted to snark at how predictable threatening to threaten to send him back in pieces was Like he hadn’t heard _that_ threat from every mafia movie ever made. Damn this guy was such a ripoff. Just like how he was a Simmons ripoff. Ripoff artist.

The urge to snark ceased however when he felt something cold against his throat. His eyes widened as he looked down just enough to see the knife resting just below his chin. Along the top, trailing across the edge of the blade, were some small, fresh blood splatters.

He gulped.

_“...what do you want?”_

“Oh, not much. Just two things,” Gene began, “First, you release Temple and those other assholes from wherever the fuck they are. Then _you_ surrender to me so that you can both pay for humiliating me!”

The other line was quiet. Simmons must have been thinking it over. But now it was too quiet. Grif could feel the urge to babble bubbling up, but the knife at his neck made him swallow it down. He hated silence. And knives. Those also now sucked. Well, maybe except when it was Simmons using it. That time he used it against Gene was pretty cool. Maybe even kind of hot. He would love for him to do it again, except actually succeed this time. Gene just had to ruin that for him. No wonder Simmons found this guy annoying as Hell.

_‘...We… we need to talk about it.”_

“Fine, I’ll give you until tonight,” replied Gene as he began to trail the blade down from Grif’s neck, across his shoulder, and then stopped somewhere along his upper arm, “But just so you know, the longer you take, and… _weellll_ …”

The knife pressed down. Grif only had a second to brace himself before again clamping onto his lip when he felt another swipe cut through him. He heard _someone_ start to say something. He didn’t know if it was Simmons or Gene though, but the bastard finally retracted the knife and stepped away from him. Though not very far as he was now standing just a few feet in front of him.

“Smile for Simmons, Grif!”

The orange soldier looke dup, only to close his eyes tight when something bright flashed before them. It was followed by something hard hitting him in the chest, pushing him back hard into the pole. It felt like the wind got knocked out of him but he barely got the time to regain it as a hand grabbed a fistful of his hair and with a sharp tug, he was forced to look directly at Gene again.

“Hey, no going back to sleep yet,” he said in a tone that Grif _never_ wanted to hear from Simmons, “I still need to take out my vengeance first!”

“The fuck are you talking about?,” he asked as he tried (and failed) to repressed the shudder that went through him, “You already ransomed me.”

“Yeah, and they haven’t given an answer yet,” Gene let go of the long locks in favor of grasping at his chin to harshly tilt his face up instead, “Can’t break my end of the bargain now, can I?”

He brought up the knife again.

* * *

“Grif? Grif?!” Simmons yelled into the phone, only to see the screen go back to the lock page, “No! You little shit! Don’t you _dare_ hang up, you… you… AHH!!!”

He threw the phone into the ground before punching the closest wall. God damn it, Gene. It was fucking _Gene._ How was that annoying bastard even here? _Why_ was he here?! How did he even escape when they left him barley hanging over fucking _lava?!_

Things stayed that way until he heard an awkward cough behind him.

“Well then… what did they say, son? Anything about Grif being dead?”

Simmons let otu a shaky breath before turning back to Sarge and Donut. The latter was looking at him anxiously, and even the former seemed on alert.

“N-no sir… not yet anyway…” the cyborg started, “It… it was Gene.”

“Gene? That traitorous doppelganger of yours?” Simmons nodded towards the sergeant, “Hot damn! I thought we got rid of all those Blue and Not-Red dirtbags!”

“I… I did too, but...I guess he somehow got away,” which was again Simmons’ fault for deciding to just leave him hanging with an easy way to escape, “But he… he wants us to respond to his demands by tonight. Otherwise, Grif… Grif will…”

He couldn’t finish the sentence. He failed… _again._ Now Grif was going to pay the price for it. What were they going to do? Somehow talk the UNSC to ree the Blues and Reds? Talk tot he Blues? Kai had said she was going to call them before coming over to the apartment. But chances are neither Tucker nor Carolina were going to allow that. Then there was Gene wanting him to surrender personally. But he didn’t even know where they were! He didn’t know what to do. _He didn’t know hat to do._

“Well then we’ve only got one option men,” said Sarge as he drew out his shotgun, “We find this cheap ripoff to ever disgrace the color Red, and send him to the same jig as his buddies!”

“But how are we going to find them?” asked Donut?

“Through standard Red tactics, we wing it!”

On any other day, Simmons would point out how that was an incredibly stupid plan that made absolutely no sense and would just lead them to a dead end. But before he could, he heard a ping noise. His phone. Gene. The cyborg practically barreled past his two companions, diving forward to scoop up the device. He opened the notification.

Another image appeared on the screen. It was another one of Grif. Only this time even worse. The room was now lit up. It looked like some kind of old, worn out place. Maybe an old warehouse of something? But that wasn’t the most noticeable part. Grif was awake this time, and across his face was a long slash. It was hard to tell how severe it was, but there was blood leaking out of the top part of it. There was also a dark stain on the sleeve of his orange shirt. Most likely blood.

The accompanying text message only confirmed as such:

_“_ _D ON’T FOREGT, TIME IS TICKING, MWAHAHA!!!”_

Simmons, grip tightened on the phone. Only this time, it wasn’t fear that consumed him. It was rage. Gene was mocking him. Trying to hurt him. Trying to hurt _Grif._ Like Hell was he was going to let that weasely bastard get away with it this time. He looked up at the other two Reds.

“Let's find and kick this fucker’s sorry ass.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize if any of the characters seem off. I'm still learning how to write them. Sarge, in particular, was giving me trouble. I will try to improve as I go, though. Anyway, that's Chapter 2! The poor boys, haha. Hopefully thing get better before this is all over! Thank you for reading everyone! See you in the next one~


	3. At Wits End

Every part of Grif’s body hurt. His face. His head. His chest. Fucking _everything._ Well except for his still bound wrists. He could barely feel those anymore, or even his arms. Only time was when that stupid Not-Simmons guy decided that he was bored with cutting at his face. Then they tended to hurt. Which equally sucked.

How long had he been stuck like this now? A few hours, probably? Maybe longer? It was hard to remember, honestly. The room was dark again, Gene having stepped out for the moment. Probably to laugh maniacally to himself over his ‘oh-so-great-master-revenge-plan’ that he kept going _on_ and _on_ about. God that guy was so annoying! How did Simmons go for… what, a month? Yeah, a month without strangling this shit out of this guy?!

Then again, what did he know? He hadn’t been there. He’d been chilling on that moon. With his volleyballs. God, he wished he had those right now. It was all dark and quiet now. Not that he necessarily wanted Gene there. But at least it was someone talking. Iris was always too quiet. To lonely. He’d take someone annoying over that. Even if it was someone who kinda sounded like a certain maroon soldier he had a questionable relationship with. 

He didn't know if that was better or worse.

The room flooded with light again, making him wince.

“Fuuuck, can you like… not do that?” The orange soldier whined, “Makes my head spin real bad…”

He heard the sound of a door shutting, but he didn’t bother opening his eyes to find out. He already knew who it was.

“Oh suck it up you big baby!" the familiar voice that both comforted and disgusted him spat out, “God you’re worse than Biff was! Gotta complain about _every God damn thing!”_

“So do certain maroon-colored nerdasses,” he mumbled in reply, only to promptly groan when a hard foot made impact with his stomach, “C-can you hit somewhere else? Kinda need that... ‘ts important.”

“Just shut up and hold still.”

He wasn’t going to argue with that one. Holding still he could absolutely do. Gene drew out an orange-colored phone. Grif’s phone. This had been the routine since the call he made to Simmons… however long ago it was now. He’d beat Grif up, take some photos with his own phone, and then monologue for what felt like a century about how everything was coming, then rinse and repeat.

Well, it was easy enough to follow, Grif could admit that.

“And… done! Perfect!” the maroon doppelganger snickered as he fiddled with the buttons, “Wish I could see the look on his face right now. Probably whimpering in the middle of the bathroom floor like some over-emotional high school preppie! Ha!”

“Sounds like you’d know, huh?” the orange soldier mumbled, “That what you go and do when you aren’t trying to pretend to be some Adam West Batman supervillain?”

“Sh-shut up! That was classic villainy inspiration!” Gene seemed to realize he was falling for the bait since he was quiet for a second before launching his fist into the other’s face, “Snark it up all you want! Once Simmons meets my demands, both he and you will pay! Then those other Red and Blue bastards! Then… then, ugh… then whoever else there is!”

Grif was too busy wincing in pain to listen at the moment. That strike had just been one of many he’d received over the past few hours. Though it was the first time in a good while that it wasn’t a blade to the face. He had no idea how bad the slashes were, not too mention how many, but considering it was taking a considerable amount of effort to hold a pained shout and he could feel _something_ oozing its way down, it must be pretty bad.

It got worse when he felt a now familiar-feeling sting smack him right in his mug, making him groan.

“Oh fuck no, you’re not dozing off yet, fatass!” Not-Simmons yelled at him, “Not until you learn to stop pissing me off!”

“S-Sorry… kinda my thing…” Grif managed to croak out, “‘Force of habit when I hear… y’know…”

“Huh?” Gene seemed confused about that, but he eventually shrugged, “Whatever. Not like _I_ care. So… where was I?”

Grif braced himself as Gene raised the knife once more. It didn’t help.

* * *

“Captain Simmons! Colonel Sarge! It’s so nice to see you!” 

“That’s _Super_ Colonel, little lady! And don’t you forget it!”

“Oh, sorry sir! Will do sir! Err, won’t do!”

Simmons waved off Jensen’s salute before letting out a yawn. It was late afternoon now. Around five o’clock. Eight hours had passed since Gene’s first message arrived, and he was exhausted. They had been turning the city up and down all day. They had taken one side of town, while the Blues had taken the other. I had been a frezy of checking every building, every street, asking whoever they could if they saw any sign of Grif. The results? Nothing. Absolutely _nothing._

Donut was currently outside on the phone with Kai, who had called just as they arrived at the police station. They had tried to get into contact with the former lieutenants for a while now, but there was always _some_ kind of immediate incident going on that kept them on hold. Seriously, was _everyone_ getting kidnapped today?!

“Sorry it took so long for us to squeeze you in, crime never rests though!” said Jensen as though she heard the cyborg's thoughts, “So what’s going on? The voice messages said it was urgent.”

“Yeah.. something like that,” said Simmons as he looked around the room. He had been paranoid about Gene somehow tracking them for a while now, The asshole wouldn’t know how to be sneaky if his life depended on him… but just the fact that he _might_ be…, “Umm… c-can we go somewhere private?”

“Hmm? Oh, sure!,” The former Maroon Team Lieutenant led them to the back and into what looked like an empty interrogation room. She motioned for the two to sit down, “Is everything okay Captain Simmons? You look tired.”

“Do I?” he asked as though he didn’t already know the answer, “Umm… we… have a bit of an emergency…”

“What kind of… wait… umm, sir? Why isn’t Captain Grif here?”

Were they really around each other so much that it was _that_ surprising when they weren’t? Simmons didn’t bother asking, instead of reaching into a compartment of his armor.

“He… well… he’s in trouble.”

He pulled the phone out and passed it to Jensen. He already had all the messages pulled up. As the former lieutenant swiped through them, she was noticeably becoming more and more tense. She was wearing her helmet, but it wasn’t hard for the cyborg to guess what her expression was. It was the same one he’d had on all day.

“O-Oh my God…,” She looked back up at them, “What… what even-?!”

Simmons tried to respond, but words were evading him at that moment. Instead, Sarge decided to pipe up.

“One of those dirty look-alikes of ours somehow evaded getting himself nabbed along with his buddies. Now we got ourselves a hostage situation on our hands. And he couldn’t even do a ransom letter right!”

“I… I see…,” Jensen turned to Simmons, “I-I’m sorry sir. I… if I knew before then-!”

“No, it’s… it's okay, Jensen,” except it wasn’t but it wasn’t her fault, “I just… he said we only have until tonight to meet his demands. We… we gotta _find_ him!”

“Okay, okay.” the former lieutenant replied, “I’ll call the others and get them on it. I’m sure that everyone will be willing to help considering it’s… well, _you_ guys. We’ll find him before you know it!”

Right, them. The Heroes of Chorus. Heroes. Yeah, sure. What kind of hero fucked up like this, to begin with? Got so self-conscious about some stupid illusion that he cut off the most important person in his life? All for _no reason? What-?!_

“Umm, sir?”

The train of thought ceased. Fuck, his mind trailed off again. He took in a deep breath, wiping at his organic eye. Cause he wanted to cry? The exhaustion? Both? Who the fuck even knew anymore.

“Sorry, I-I just…”

“No! It’s okay! I understand! I mean, if… if Charlie ever…” Jensen didn’t complete that sentence, visibly shuddering at the thought, “Umm… right! I was going to ask, did you try tracking Capitan Grif’s phone? He has a GPS chip installed, right?”

Tracking.

_Tracking._

“... God fucking _damn it!”_ Simmons head fell onto the interrogation table. Hard. “Why the _fuck_ didn’t I think of that earlier?!”

“Now wait just a darn minute!” said Sarge as he looked at Jensen, “Are you saying that all we had to do this entire time was signal down on that newfangled thing?!”

“Well… it’s not _that_ simple. The kidnapper turned the GPS off, and it could take a while to lock down on it. But if we could, then we might be able to narrow it down to one general area.”

“Well, conflab it all! Simmons, why didn’t you tell me that sooner when we started this whole wild goose hunt?!”

“I…” That was… a very good question, “I didn’t think of it sir…” 

Even for something that simple, something that he should have thought of automatically, he couldn’t do even _that._ Of course not. This was how pathetic he was. Why was he even surprised anymore?

He sat back up, turning towards Jensen

“How soon can you get started?”

“Right after I call the others,” she responded as she got up, “Umm… I’m probably not supposed to do this, but… maybe you could help, sir? Everything I know was because of you, after all.”

The cyborg felt his face flush. Because of him, huh? That couldn’t equate to much then. But he didn’t get the chance to reply, Sarge, beating him to the punch.

“Why of course he would! You two eggheads get to working on that and give us a progress report ASAP. I’m gonna go load up my shotgun, so I can kill that blathering disgrace of a Red traitor dead the first chance we get!”

Jensen saluted. Simmons just stared for a moment before slowly standing back up. He followed Jensen out. He didn’t know why he was, though. What could he do? He hadn’t been able to do much of anything so far. But… he couldn’t give in now, right?. Not while Grif’s safety was on the line. He had to do something _. Anything._

Even if it ultimately did nothing at all.

* * *

“Agh!”

A harsh kick to the gut finally caused Grif’s legs to give out on him. He slid down, falling to his knees. He struggled to get his breath back. It _hurt_ to breathe now. He heard another ‘snap’ noise, but he didn’t give a damn right now. He just tried to focus on breathing. In and out… in and out…

It failed when he found his head slammed into the back of the metal pole, adding even more pain to the threshold already building up.

“Aww, what’s wrong? No more witty remarks?” Annoying bastard asked with a snicker, “Come on, go ahead! I won’t even hurt you this time… well, not hard!”

Grif sent him a half-glare, unable to muster up the effort for much else while trying to heave air into his lungs. Everything hurt so much now. It felt like he had just run one of Sarge’s drills back in Blood Gulch. A thousand times. In a row. While being shot at by the Warthog’s turret gun. And even _that_ was preferable right now.

“Really? Nothing? Well, that sucks.” he didn’t sound all _that_ upset about it, “Ah well, I offered. Guess we’ll just get back to business then.”

A harsh hand grabbed a handful of hair, forcing Grif back up. His legs were shaking now. He could hardly stand up, despite his best efforts to keep himself upright. Gene didn’t seem to feel any pity, however, tugging even harder and causing the orange soldier to let out a pained shudder.

“Your friends are running out of time. It’s been quite a while now since I talked to them,” the maroon doppelganger mumbled to himself as he reached to draw his knife back out, “Won’t even reply to all the messages that I sent. Guess they really don’t give a shit about you.”

“Shut… the fuck… up…”

That was the best that Grif could pant out. He tried to look away. He hated it when Gene made him look at him. It was just… all wrong. It wasn’t enough that he _sounded_ like Simmons. Even had the same armor color as Simmons. But he even almost looked like him! Red hair, pasty white skin, lean yet scrawny physique. Admittedly much more scrawny than Simmons, but still. It was _awful._ Even the eyes were a shade of bright green, matching the one that Grif had gotten from him all those years ago.

The only major difference was him having _two_ green eyes. No bright red one on the left side. No metal whatsoever, actually. It was the only way he could remind himself that this wasn’t Simmons Just some psychotic copy. One somehow even _whinier_ and on the verge of snapping at any second than the original. How that was even possible, he’d never know.

There was another sharp pull of his hair, forcing Grif’s head back to directly facing Gene. He tried to clamp his eyes shut, only for another tug to force them open again. The knife was soon at his neck again. The edge right over his throat.

“Y’know? Maybe I should do them all a favor,” he said in a dark tone, one that hearing in Simmons’ voice made Grif feel sick, “I mean, obviously this isn’t working. So there’s no point in keeping you around, right?”

The blade trailed its way over his throat as he spoke. Slowly. Grif did his best to hold back a gulp.

Gene held the blade still, the bottom of it right at the edge of Grif’s neck. All it would take was one swipe, and that would be the end of it. There was a slight shift, and Grif this entire frame freeze. His breath jammed in his throat. His fists so hard the nails bit down into his palms as the sense of cold horror gripped at his chest.

_'Fuck! Fuck!_ Fuck!’

A loud ringing suddenly echoed throughout the room.

The hand holding onto his hair pulled back, causing Grif to collapse back onto his knees. There was the sound of something else dropping as well as a muffled curse. He was gasping now, sweat dripping from his temple. He tried to move his hands to where the knife had been if reflex, but the sharp tug reminded him that he couldn’t.

Fuck… he really… he really was almost…

‘ _No, don’t think about it Grif. Don’t_ ever _fucking thinking about it_ ever again. _’_

Gene had since stepped away from him, the ringing stopping as he spoke into the phone. It seemed like he didn’t want Grif to hear as he shut off the lights and slammed the door behind him. It made him feel panicked for other reasons now, but he had his fill of asshole nerds who wasn’t even really a nerd for the moment. Actually felt kind of nice. It stopped making everything as blurred, at least. 

The orange soldier leaned back and just tried to force himself to properly breathe again. It still hurt, but it was better than… what _almost_ happened. 

It was official, he fucking hated knives now… kinda like the one that was just a short distance away from his feet. Right, Gene dropped it. Then promptly forgot it. Now he was off talking to whoever and left Grif all by his lonesome with it. Huh.

Well then.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know how I said that this would be three chapters long? Yeah... think we're gonna have to go a little longer than thst. Don't think it'll be any more than six, but we'll see. For now though, another chapter dow! Hope you all enjoyed, and I'll see you in the next one~
> 
> EDIT: I toned down one line due to a commentator pointing out that it made things rather uncomfortable especially due to the events in-story. I apologize for any discomfort that it may have caused. I will try to do better in the future and continue to improve on characterizations.


	4. Progression

“Simmons? SIMMONS!”

“Gah!” The cyborg sat up with a start, “What? What?! Are we under attack?!”

“Umm… no?” Donut. It was Donut, “Sarge wanted to know how things were going. I… thought it might be better if I came and asked since… you know…”

Simmons couldn’t argue with that. On any other day, he would gladly put up with Sarge and his Sarge-like tangents. But he couldn’t deal with that right now. At least not any that involved shooting, hitting, or otherwise hurting Grif.

“He’s probably as worried as the rest of us,” he continued, “It’s just his way of coping with all the worry that he isn’t used to. He really _should_ learn some healthier coping methods though. It’s very bad for his mental health.”

The cyborg didn’t bother with a response as he shook his head He must have dozed off. His gaze moved down towards datapad in his lap. Same as it was five minutes ago. It had been about an hour now since the process to track Grif’s phone signal began. All that was left was for a result. Donut pulled up a nearby chair and planted himself in it.

“Having any luck yet?”

“Nothing,” the cyborg growled as he shoved the pad aside and stood up, “Fucking _nothing!_ We should have been able to get something within minutes! Bastard must be jamming the signal somehow! The one lead we may have had, and it was a fucking _waste!_ ”

“Fudge.” the pink soldier watched as Simmons paced the room with eyes glued onto the datapad screen, “Okay, Simmons… I know this might be a silly question, but… are you doing okay?”

He stopped in his tracks to aim a glare at the other.

“Do I _look_ alright?!”

Donut jumped at the tone, but the maroon-clad soldier resumed his pacing and pulling back out the phone. Nothing new. Same as it had been the past hour. He had quit counting the number of pictures he’d received over the past few hours. But each and every one was the same: Grif looking more and more bloodied up and Gene having some taunting, grammatically butchered text message.

It took everything in him to not throw up.

“Look… I know I said I wasn’t going to worry about other’s problems for a while… but this is _really_ driving you kind of insane Simmons.”

“Donut, I am perfectly _fine!”_

“You just snapped at me a few seconds ago for _asking_ if you were fine. You are _not_ fine.”

“I am not doing this right-!”

“Oh yes, you are mister!” Simmons didn’t know when Donut got up, but he found himself being pushed back into the chair by him, “You look like you’re going to pass out any second now! You’ve been snapping at nearly everyone we’ve tried talking to! Not to mention you were hardly talking to anyone even before this!”

“I-!”

“Eh! Let me finish!” the pink-soldier raised a wagging finger before straightening up with hands on his hips, “I’m not going to press you to tell me what all has been on your mind but Simmons, you’re not fine. I mean, we all know _why_ you aren’t right this minute… but it's not going to help make things better now, is it?”

“Well… no, but-!”

“No but’s! What you need right now is to take a deep breath and get those thoughts of yours back in order. How are you going to be able to do _anything_ for Grif if you aren’t at a hundred percent? _HMM?!_ ”

...well damn. Simmons just stared up at Donut with a shocked expression. He knew that the pink-soldier had gotten sterner since the whole Chrovos thing, but… _damn._

“Now I’m going to go get you some water. You haven’t had anything since that coffee spill this morning.” said soldier said as he walked tot he door, “You need to keep yourself hydrated at the very least. So you just wait there and pull yourself together. No looking at any devices until I get back, okay?

The cyborg just nodded dumbly as Donut exited the room. He buried his helmet-covered face into his hands, biting back the urge to scream. God, he was so tired. So emotionally _drained._

He knew that Donut was right. He’d been on edge all day. If he wasn’t struggling to speak, he was moments away from ripping whatever was in sight to shreds. If he wasn’t worrying himself to death, he was working himself to death instead. He was a mess. A complete and utter _mess._

‘ _What else is new?’_

Simmons tried to do as he was told. Breathe. Let his mind cool down. He wasn’t sure how good that would do though. Even when he wasn’t as worked up, they uncovered nothing. No leads. No clues. All he had was the faint hope of picking up a phone signal that his copy was most likely blocking with a scrambler. What else could they do? 

The search party was underway with Jensen having practically gotten _every_ law enforcer in the city on the case. Even former members of Gold Team who were still in contact with Bitters had apparently signed up when he had told them. That wasn’t something that Simmons expected form Bitters of all people, but whatever got help. They had even gotten in touch with Kimball, who was not at all happy to hear that one of Chorus’ saviors had been kidnapped and was ready and willing to alert the entire planet if need be.

Still, what if that wasn’t enough? Chrous wasn’t exactly a small planet. Who knows how long it would take to survey all of it out even with the number of people going around. Even then, what if they were too late? What if they had no choice but to agree to the ransom before then? If they did, then they were-!

Wait a minute…

The ransom…

_The ransom!_

“I’m back!” Donut announced, “Now how are you-?”

“I’ve got it!” The cyborg stood up as he drew his phone out, “I need to call Gene!”

“Wait, _what?!”_ The private tilted his head in confusion, “Okay… _maybe_ leaving you to think by yourself wasn’t a good idea.”

“No, don’t you see?! We can’t find them because Gene’s jamming the signal!” he began babbling as he began typing frantically on the datapad, “But maybe… maybe there’s still a way to get it. It’s… it’s stupid. _Really_ fucking stupid. But… it might be the best guarantee to find them.”

“...well… I guess if you think it’ll work... maybe we should get Sarge first though?”

"He won't care as long as he gets to fight someone. I'm just gonna do it."

Simmons didn’t wait for any further approval, even with his conscience pointing out how he really should. He quickly dialed the number. It rang… rang… rang…

_“Damn it,_ what?! _”_

Well, here it goes nothing.

“Umm... it’s Simmons. I’m ugh… ready to tell you our answer.”

_“Shit, hold on.”_ a moment passed, _‘Okay, sorry. Was kind of in the middle of something._

His grip tightened on the phone. Oh yeah, he had a good idea what that _something_ probably was.

“ _Anyways, ahem! So… what’s your answer?”_

He inhaled deeply.

“We’ll do it.”

“What?!” Donut cried out.

_‘What?!’_ Gene repeated

“I said we’ll do it asshole.” the cyborg, “I’ll surrender myself while the others work on getting Temple and those other guys freed. You win.”

_‘Oh, ugh… g-great! I knew you’d cave in eventually!’_

“Y-yeah, right. Just couldn't take it anymore, exactly! So just go ahead and tell where you're at now so I get to surrendering!”

‘ _Very well, I-! Hey, wait a minute! How the Hell do I know this isn’t some kind of trap? Do you take me for an idiot?!’_

Oh, how Simmons wanted to _scream_ ‘Yes’ so very, _very_ much.

“It’s only going to be me, okay?” he continued “No one else. Just… j-just don’t hurt Grif anymore and I’ll… I’ll do whatever you want.” 

His voice was shaky as he spouted his plea. He had no idea if this would work. This entire gambit was the dumbest thing he’d done ever. Of all time. But… it had to right? It _had_ to.

It was silent for a moment. Then a pinging noise went off in Simmons’ ear. He pulled the phone back and on the screen was a notification alert. From Grif’s phone.

_“You have one hour. Don’t be late. And you_ better _be alone, or else ”_

The line went dead at those last words. But as soon as it was, the cyborg opened the message up. Inside was an address. He quickly typed it into his datapad.

A result immediately came up.

“Yes… fucking _yes!”_ For the first time that day, the cyborg was smiling, “I know where he is!”

“Really?! Oh _Thank God,”_ said Donut, “So… what do we do now?”

“You get Sarge and send this to everyone.” he handed the other Red the pad, “It’s in a warehouse just outside the city. It was probably some kind of old Feds base for awhile. That might be how he’s been able to block any scans. It’s about twenty minutes away from here on foot, so I need to get going.”

“Okay, if you’re su… wait, _going?!”_ it was too late as Simmons was already walking out the door. Donut ran after him, “Simmons, you can’t! Gene will do who knows what to either of you! At least wait until we’ve called everyone!”

“I can’t wait anymore, okay?! This is the only chance we have!” he yelled back as made his way to the exit “Besides I already told him I’d come alone! He’ll have his guard down, and then you all can surround him! We can't just wait and risk Grif's like anymore!

“But-!”

Whatever else Donut had to say, Simmons didn’t hear as the ran out the door. He didn’t need to be told that this was stupid. He already knew. It was _dangerously_ stupid. But if it meant getting at Gene... meant securing Grif's safety...

Stupidity it was.

* * *

The call ended, and Gene smirked to himself. For a while there, he actually thought that this whole plan was going to fail. It had been a pretty abrupt plan, to begin with. Sure, he’d been planning his long, meticulous plans of revenge for the past few days now. All of which were so grand that it would take far too much time to properly execute them! Yeah, that! Not because he lacked any actual resources or man-power and didn’t want to be on the receiving end of a mass beatdown, or anything!

But now, all of that pain was going to be worth it. Almost falling into a pool of lava. His… well, ‘friends’ was a generous term, but his allies being arrested by their tormentors. Being forced to hitchhike his way to Chorus to avoid getting arrested. Stalking his mortal enemy for days on end. Having to wait day after day after _day_ for his chance to strike! While sitting out in the cold!

It had been pure _torture_!

He finally took his chance when he saw their orange soldier out on his own. The idiot didn’t even seem to realize, just cursing about some kind of petty squabble that he and Simmons had had. That was _all_ they seemed to ever do. And he thought that Biff had been annoying. All it took was one strike from behind, and everything fell into place.

Dragging his fat ass inside hurt though. Just _thinking_ about it made his entire body spasm. But speaking of… time to go check back up on him now that that was taken care of.

“Oh, _Griiif_! I’ve got good news!” He said gleefully as he pushed the door open. “Simmons just called. Guess what? He should be here in about an hour now!”

He switched on the lights, fully expecting a complaint about it hurting his eyes or whatever. That didn’t happen though. Instead, the orange soldier just quickly sat up straight. He must have just woken up. Lazyass.

“O-oh? Is he?” He mumbled. “Ugh… great… good to know…”

Gene lifted a brow. That seemed… uncharacteristic. Ah well. That meant less sass interrupting him.

“Yep! Looks like you had a purpose to serve after all! As soon as he’s here, I’ll be able to unleash my rage upon him! Make him feel the agony that _I_ was forced to endure for since he foiled Temple’s plans! I tried to be his friend, but he-!”

He was abruptly cut off by the sound of a loud snore. 

“H-Hey! No falling asleep during the monologue, ashole!” He stomped over. “Did our talk a few minutes ago teach you _nothing?_ Well fine! I’ll-! _EEK!”_

Gene found himself crumbling onto his knees, going to clutch his balls. Stupid cheap ass armor! He heard some kind of commotion as he tried to gather himself up.

“What the fuck are you-?! Ah!”

He fell back to the floor as he felt something go straight through the kevlar around his leg. He bit his lip. He heard Grif curse as well as… footsteps? Going across the room? What would…? No way. _No fucking way._

He opened one eye and with a pained cry, sat up to see the support beam he’d tied Grif to now unoccupied. Around the back was a small pile of rope. But the standout was the front of his leg, where the handle of a knife was now sticking out.

The same one he had used earlier.

_Fuck!_

* * *

“Shit, come _on!”_

Grif has only made it a few feet past Gene's collapsed form before his legs began giving out on him. Not to mention the soreness still in his chest, stomach, the side of his head, and all across his face. His arms, all numb and wobbly, weren’t helping much either. He made it about another half-step before ending up on his knees, barely catching himself on his barely workable hands. Fuck! Not now! Of all the times he actually _wanted_ to be moving, his body had to fail him _now!_

He groaned as he tried to crawl towards the door. He heard his abductor groaning as well, but he tried to tun it out. He couldn’t worry about that bastard right now. He had just barely managed to pull the forgotten knife to where he could grab it. Looked like all those years of stretching and squeezing into impossible places had a purpose outside evading base chores after all! Eat that Sarge!

Although that was going to mean jack shit if he couldn’t get the fuck out of there. Gene said Simmons as on his way though, right? That wasn’t exactly a good thing considering that was what the annoying ripoff wanted, but that meant that he was _coming._ He would _be there._ They’d have a chance of getting out of this shithole alive!

So if he could just hold out long enough… yeah. Yeah! It would be fine!! He just needed to get to the door and-!

A sudden piercing pain in the back of his shoulder stopped him in his tracks.

He screamed. Screamed until he fell face-first onto the floor. He was panting again. It didn’t last long, another pained yell escaping him when a foot stomped down hard onto the wound. All the energy he'd somehow built-up was now gone.

“You Gooddamn _bastard!_ You really think that you can escape me, huh?! Think that you could outwit me?!”

The only motion that Grif could make was to weakly lift his middle finger, and even that fell back to the floor within a second. That was probably a stupid move. He felt the now familiar, but still painful tug to his hair, lifting him up just enough to see the enraged face of Gene.

“I was considering letting you go after this. After all, I got what I wanted out of you. But you wanna make this difficult? _Fucking fine with me_!”

Grif only got a moment to take in what exactly that meant before something cold and hard smashed into his cranium. Everything went black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was going to wait to post this int he morning, but due to another engagement, I'm not for sure how up to it I would feel so here it is. Good news though, only two more chapters to go! We're entering the climax folks! Which, just to be safe, I have bumped the rating up because it's about to get messy, to put it simply. Hope you'll all enjoy what's to come cause it was the whole basis for this, mwahaha! See you all then~


	5. Face-Off

Okay, so maybe running to the outskirts of the city _wasn’t_ the smartest thing Simmons had ever done. No! Maybe nothing! It _absolutely_ wasn’t the smartest thing he’d ever done! This was about as stupid as one could get! Walking up to an abandoned building all by his lonesome with zero back-ups against a raging psycho who had a hostage to boot!

_‘Brilliant idea Simmons_ . _Fucking_ brilliant!’

He probably should have taken that water from Donut. He was completely out of breath by the time he got to the address. Or maybe that was nerves. Or both.

It was dark now, the streets just barely lit. It just made the dirty, dull-colored garage-sized building that he now stood before look all the creepier. The windows were cracked or outright shattered, the grass was all dead, the air was so grimy that his helmet was the only thing keeping the cyborg from gagging. It felt like stepping into Grif’s room on a particularly bad day where he hadn't done laundry for over a month. Or like if Grif had just eaten something that rotted away a month ago. No, a _year_ ago.

He’d let Grif have whatever he wanted after this though. Well.. maybe not _whatever._ Nothing rotted at least. But he'd would be lenient for at least a bit if… no, _when_ they got out of this alive. Right, when. No ‘ifs’ about it!

_‘Unless you don’t fuck it all up of course.’_

The cyborg stood before the front of the building. He wasn’t quite sure what to do now. Gene didn’t specify what he was supposed to actually _do_ once he reached the location. Hell, for all he knew, he was walking straight into a trap. If so, what could he do? Donut had to have informed Sarge and the others by now, but who knew how long it would take for them all to scramble and show up. What if it was too late? What if Gene wasn’t even here? What if Grif wasn’t here?! What if this wasn’t even the location?! He didn’t know if Gene wasn’t lying or not. What then?! Oh God, _why_ had he been so _stupid_ when he decided to rush out here alone?! _Why-?!_

A loud 'bang' echoed out as the door banged into the wall from how hard the cyborg pushed it.

“Huh?! Wha…? Oh… oh _shit,_ you’re early! Wait, do-over! I wasn’t ready!”

The voice came from above, and Simmons looked up to see Gene standing there with a startled expression. That wasn’t what caught his attention, however. Moreso it was the amount of blood splattered across his maroon armor. Not to mention his face.his face. Even from this distance and the wide, empty room being so dimly lit with only one overhead light working and another flashing on and off, it was as clear as day.

His fists clenched at his sides.

“Fuck that!” He said as he stomped forward, drawing his pistol and aiming it upward. “Where the fuck is Grif, _motherfucking dickhead?!”_

“H-hey! W-wait a second Simmons! Old buddy! Haha!” The fucker was already backing up and out of sight. Must not have been prepared for the other quite this soon. _Good._

“If you think that you get to be the one pissing his pants after all the crap you pulled, then you’ve got another-!”

“Y-you won’t be able to get to him if you kill me!”

The cyborg stopped.

It was so tempting to shoot the other right here and now. Even if he was too far out of a simple pistol’s range, it would be _oh_ so satisfying. All the images of Grif flashed through his mind. Him being tied up. Beat up. Bloodied up. Looking so helpless. Almost _lifeless_ at some points when he was slumped forward and… _and…_

“...fine. Just take me to him. _Now._ ”

He heard the bastard squeak. It took another second or two before he was once more at the front of the platform. He cleared his throat, his mortified expression shifting to a smug smirk. That fucking sick, _sick_ smirk stretched out over this Goddamn bloody face. It made the other want to gag.

“Fine. But first I need to ensure a few things. Y’know, for safety.” Safe. Oh sure. Safety for his-fucking-self. “Drop all your weapons. Oh, and that includes knives. I ain’t risking _that_ happening again!”

Of course. Of _fucking_ course. Simmons wished that he could glare holes through his visor and at the other man right now, but he did as told. Before long, his gun, some extra rounds, and everything in between laid in a small pile at his feet. The knife followed last, landing right on the top. He looked down at it, unease filling him as he looked back up to Gene.

“There. Happy?”

His ugly ass smirk only grew.

“Very! Alright, right up that way.” said Gene as he motioned towards what looked like a ladder to the left. “Oh and don’t bother trying to comm anyone. Got a jammer that some idiots must have left here. I fixed it up and had it blocking anything that could lead anyone here. But since you were on your way I set it up to block any and all transmissions. Both in and out. Sucks to be you, huh?”

Simmons didn’t reply. Instead, he walked over tot he ladders and began climbing up. It seemed it wasn’t exactly stable, shaking ever so slightly due to the added weight. Still, the cyborg pulled himself up. As he stood up, he could now see Gene much more fully. Looked as dumb and ugly as ever. Two things stood out though. One was what looked like a bandage around his leg. Around an area where the armored padding didn’t quite cover. But that wasn’t what alarmed him.

The alarming part was the amount of blood that soaked the rest of the armor. There was… a lot. Like... a _lot._

‘I mean… really? You actually _did_ come alone? _Really_ ?” Gene questioned mockingly.”That’s something I’d expect Donut or even your guys Blue idiot to do, but you? Wow Simmons, _wow._ This was pretty fucking stupid of you.”

So was sending him an address that he could easily tell other people. People who seemed to be taking their sweet ass time to show up. But Simmons wasn’t going to argue.

“Then again, maybe it’s _not_ that much of a surprise.” The maroon asshole continued. “I mean all of you Reds and Blues are pretty damn pathetic. But you? I always knew that _you_ were the most by far. All you ever did was moan and groan cause your orange guy wasn’t there for you to squabble with. Got annoying as fuck.”

“Shut up.” the cyborg growled out, but Gene seemed in no mood to do that.

“Did you ever listen to yourself? ‘ _Oh, damn it all! My best friend walked out on me! Oh, woe is me?! I_ totally _don’t need him though! But I’m going to bring it up every five seconds cause it just pains me so! Except not! Really!’_ I mean, seriously! That’s all it was! All the damn time!”

“ _Shut up!”_

“It _did_ make this whole thing so much easier though. The fatass was too busy complaining about you being a self-conscious asshole to even notice me from behind! You really should have seen it, Simmons! All I had to do was walk behind him and slam my helmet right into his huge ass forehead. Pretty sure it broke all the systems, but it was a piece of junk anyway. GOt me what I wanted at the very-!”

A hard fist to the face shut Gene up finally. It was so hard, he was forced back and fell straight onto his ass. Simmons didn’t let it end there though, tackling him the rest of the way down. Even with his glare hidden behind the helmet, it must have done its job as Gene looked up at him with wide eyes. The one his fist met was already swelling up.

“You are going to shut the _fuck_ up and take me to Grif right fucking _now_ , or I will throw your ass over the ledge! Got it?!"

Gene gulped, nodding at him frantically. Fucking pussy. Trying to act all menacing and like some fucking edgelord, when really he was just a psychotic asshole. Still, Simmons let up before grabbing his copy roughly by the shoulders and forcing him to his feet. With a harsh shove, Gene walked to the other side of the room and into a narrow hallway. It was completely dark now, the only sound being the two's footsteps. The entire hall was empty save for one lone door at the end. Gene turned towards, motioning a hand forward.

“He’s right through there.”

That was all that Simmons needed to hear. He ran forward, shoving Gene out of his was as he practically barreled into the door. It was rather small, a large supporting beam in the middle of it. A distance away, right in between it and where Simmons now stood, laid a familiar-looking figure. All the air suddenly seemed to cut off as the cyborg took a shaky step forward. His mind felt like it was shutting down. Denial started to seep its way in as he began to process what was right before him.

' _No.. please Dear_ God _no...'_

Light suddenly flooded the room, and his fears were confirmed.

“GRIF!”

He crossed the rest of the distance, collapsing onto his knees. Right into the red puddle, but he didn’t care. He didn’t care about _anything_ right now except for what was right in front of him. His arms were stiff and trembling as he slowly began to lift then to carefully grasp at the heavier man’s shoulder and side. He carefully, almost reluctantly, turned him over. 

His breath caught in his throat.

Grif’s face had several cuts all across it. It was hard to make out how severe they were due to all the blood around the tanned skin, however. His shirt was practically shredder, a countless number of gashes all across his arms, chest, and collar bone. More blood was all around, especially around his left shoulder. It was all over his clothes and even in his hair. Wherever the blood didn’t reach, there seemed to be a large collection of bruises of varying severity. Same with his face.

Simmons’ entire frame was trembling now. He wanted to look away, yet he couldn’t. Careful fingertips planted themselves on the other’s cheek, trailing across one of the many scratches. Even with having to look at all the graphic images that Gene had sent him for several hours straight, nothing had prepared him for… for _this!_ He moved his hand to the pulse-point.

Still beating.

He was alive.

He was only slightly relieved, however. His hand moved to the Grif’s temple now, where a particularly ugly-looking bruise stood out. The spot form the very first image he was sent. As he brushed aside some of the dark locks to get a better look, however, the other let out a soft groan. Simmons froze, pulling back as though a kettle just burned him. A pair of brown and green eyes cracked open ever so slight;y. His gaze seemed unfocused as he looked up, as though he couldn’t comprehend what was going on around him…

...only to quickly widen and cause him to begin writing on the ground like a trapped wild animal.

“Grif-?!”

“GET THE FUCK AWAY FROM ME!”

“Grif, wait! I’m not-!”

“GET AWAY!”

“Grif, it’s not Gene! It’s-! Ah!”

A sharp foot hit him in the side of the head, sending him back. It was followed by a pained noise form Grif. That got him to sit up just in time to see Gene turn towards him. Gene. Fuck, he forgot all about him!

“There. You got to see him.” His voice was low now as he reached to his side. “Now I’ve got both of you assholes right where I want you.”

Simmons gaped at him before another low, much quieter voice spoke up.

“...S-Simmons?”

The cyborg slowly turned to Grif’s direction. Their eyes met. The orange soldier still looked unfocused and rather uneasy. But they didn’t look panicked anymore. They looked… he didn’t know. It was hard to process anything aside from the fact that Grif was looking at him right now. But he was forced to break it at the sound of someone rushing at him.

He looked up just as a large, blood-soaked knife aimed straight at his visor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One more chapter to go! Nothing much else to say really except thank you all for reading! Hope you enjoyed cause next chapter is gonna be the moment I've been waiting for, heehee~ Thanks again everyone~


	6. Safe

Simmons caught the other's wrist before it could connect with him. It was a struggle to keep Gene in place though even as he slowly rose to his feet. Damn, it was the lava lair all over again. Except now it was Gene holding the knife and him struggling to not get stabbed straight through his head. Must be someone’s idea of a cruel, sick joke.

The cyborg growled, pushing back as much as he could. Gene backed up, but it didn’t throw him off at all. Fuck, he didn’t know if he could hold it for long. He looked to the left, right at Grif. But he was clearly in no condition to be of any aid this time. He was on his own.

Or maybe not, as the muffled sound of a crash rang out. 

Moth maroon soldiers froze. There was the sound of voices yelling. A couple of gunshots as well. The backup. It had to be, right? Who else _could_ it be? Regardless though, Simmons took the open opportunity and kicked his doppelganger in the leg. Right into the bandaged area.

“Ah! _Shit!_ ”

Gene backed up, but Simmons wasn’t done. He slammed his first into his face. Then the other. 

Then again. 

And again. 

And again.

And again.

The two were now on the ground, the cyborg just slamming his fists over and over again into the other. It was as though a switch had been flipped in his brain. He could only see red now. Think of the pure agony that Gene made him endure. Made Grif endure. Nothing else mattered now except beating his ugly mug in. Make _him_ be the one in agony now.

The tirade ceased, however, when he felt something pierce him in his middle. He froze. One hand went to cover the spot, feeling a handle there. The knife. The fucking _knife._

Now distracted, the maroon soldier was taken aback as the other soldier shoved him back before slamming his foot into the other’s chin. It pushed him back and Gene grabbed him by the shoulders, pushing him back hard into the large pole behind them. He grunted on the impact, sliding down. He heard footsteps though and he tried to lift his head up…

...only to find that he _couldn’t._

He could barely move his body in fact, nor could he feel his left arm and right leg. At least half of his vision seemed to be blinking out as well. Something in his cybornetics must be malfunctioning. The knife… it… it hit him in the left side. The robotic side. Fuck. Not now. Not fucking _now!_ He could even feel his mind beginning to shut down now.

_Fuck!_

He waited for _something_ to happen… but nothing came. There was, however, some kind of crashing noise. A nearby gasp. The sound of guns cocking. There were voices… voices that were hard to make out. Fuck, even his hearing was on the fritz. But there were saying… things...

“Hold it right there, dirtbag!”

“Freeze!”

“S-Simmons?!”

“Oh my…”

“Holy shit...”

“Captain Simmons!”

“Get the _fuck_ away from my brother, you fucking cocksucker!”

“Wait, I’m confused! Which one of them is Simmons?!”

“The one who _doesn’t_ have a fucking robo eye or a helmet on Palomo!”

“Oh, got it!”

“G-Get back! I still have a hostage!”

Simmons gasped as his robot eye went dark, then white. His systems… his systems must be rebooting. He felt his fingers twitch, though he still could hardly move his arm. But now he could make out the identities much better. It was them. Sarge, Donut, Jensen, fucking _everyone._

‘ _Fucking_ finally.’

“We don’t want to make this more difficult than it has to be, Gene.” That was a woman’s voice. Carolina? “Just let Grif go and stand down.”

Grif…? Let go…? What...?

“Oh don’t give me that crap _Freelancer!_ You try anything, and _he’ll_ be the one taking the fucking shots! Go ahead, not like you fuckers had problems killing Orange soldiers before!”

“This isn’t-!”

“Hey, why don’t you shut the fuck up and just make it easy on yourself asshole?” that sounded like Tucker. “Then maybe you can see your buddies again and compare how much you all suck then!”

There was the sound of a yelp. Everyone froze. Simmons, though, felt himself regain his barrings as his eyes shot open, gasping as the sudden sensation of… _everything_ hit him at once. Still, he could move now. He waited until the sensory overload died down, then slowly lifted his head up.

A large group was on the other side of the room, guns (or sword in Tucker’s case) at the ready. He couldn’t tell exactly who all was there though, as someone was obscuring his view. It was Gene… and right by him, hanging in the other's tight grip via his hair, was Grif. The orange soldier made no noise or even any movement. He just hung there, unable to fight back.

Once more, Simmons was seeing red as he growled lowly. But everyone’s attention seemed too preoccupied to notice. Including Gene’s. With Grif that close, if they fired, they’d risk hitting him too. But if they didn't, who knows what Gene would do. He could escape, or worse. He could harm Grif again. Simmons had to do something… _anything…_

That’s when he looked down and saw something long and dark still sticking out of him. The knife... _the knife..._

His hand went to the handle, then he looked back up at Gene. Something clicked in his mind. He knew just what to do now.

With a groan, he grasped onto and then pulled the bloodied blade out of the metallic flesh. Gene whirled his head around, but not fast enough. With an angry shout, Simmons charged at him, slamming the knife hard into his back. Gene froze, dropping Grif instantly as he made some kind of chocked noise as Simmons pulled back. He turned fully to him, but Simmons gave him zero chance to recover as he jabbed the knife forward again, this time for his middle.

Gene let out a cry, hands clutching at the wound as he backed up. He looked at Simmons, terror in his eyes. It only made Simmons angrier, growling as he thrusted the knife forward once more. The bastard _dared_ to look like that after forcing Grif into the same state? Kidnapping him?! Torturing him?! Hacking at every inch of him?! Forcing Simmons to look at every single instant of it?! And for what?! Some stupid as revenge scheme?!

No. _Fuck no!_ This bastard didn’t deserve that! He didn’t deserve anything but retribution! To be subjected to the same torment and agony that he put Grif through! He… _he…!_

“Simmons!” A pair of arms grabbed Simmons and forced him onto his feet. He didn’t even realize that they had moved to the ground, but he was stopped as he tried to lunge for Gene again. “That’s enough son! You got him good enough already!”

“Come on Simmons, you gotta calm down!” He didn’t listen, trying to lunge forward again. “Simmons! It’s okay! He’s down! Grif’s safe now! It’s _okay!”_

The was breathing hard, but he stopped struggling. Slowly, he began to take in what was going on. He was being held in place by Sarge and Donut, the latter gripping onto his right arm. The knife was still in his hands, the metal barely visible beneath all the blood. He stared at it for a moment before looking downward.

Gene was on the ground, no longer moving. A large pool of blood was forming beneath him. The others were already surrounding him, either holding him at gunpoint or bending over to see how severe the wounds were. Simmon then looked himself over, his armor drenched in blood. The nife-han especially with the maroon barely visible under the dark red coating. Did… did he do _that?!_ Holy shit… Why did he...? _How_ did he..?!

Then he remembered Grif.

The other two Reds loosened their grips and Simmons ran out of it, the knife falling to the ground. He ran past Gene’s body and over to where Grif laid. Kai was already there, her hand on top of one of Grif’s own. She looked up at him, but the cyborg paid her no mind as he crouched down beside the other’s form. He was out again. He didn’t look any worse than he did a few moments ago, but that didn’t really mean much.

“They… they already called an ambulance and all that shit. They should be here soon.” Kai said softly, not turning away from her brother. “He… he’s gonna be okay when they get here, right? He… he’s survived a lot of worse shit than this… r-right?!

Simmons didn’t have an answer.

* * *

Grif cracked his eyes open, a faint ache making its way through his body. God, he felt so tired. So sore. Just thinking made his head hurt. Stupid fucking Gene. Annoying asshole. He didn’t want to wake up. Just wanted to lay here and never move again for as long as-!

“Grif?”

His eyes shot open wide at that, horror gripping at his chest. Shit! He tried to turn around, but even with the pain faint, it was still too much for him to move. Frantic footsteps made their way towards him, and Grif braced himself. There was no way for him to fight back. He was trapped.

A cold hand made contact with is. Almost… metallic-like. Wait… metalic…? Did that mean…?

Slowly, he turned his head. His vision was blurred, but he could make out a red-haired figure. Looked kinda like Gene. A _lot_ like Gene in fact. His body tensed before he looked into his eyes. One was bright green, again like Gene. But the other was a bright red, some silver along the side of his face. Then... that had to mean...

“...Simmons?”

“Yeah… it’s me.” The cyborg’s voice was quiet, almost hesitant. It sounded like Gene as well. But only one maroon nerd had a cyborg eye like that.

“...Thank fucking Christ.” He felt the tension slowly die down as he exhaled. “Fuckin’ hated that other guy. Was annoying as fuck. D’nt even give out snacks.”

Simmons made some kind of noise. Sounded like a mix between a laugh and biting down the urge to yell at him. Grif hoped he didn’t. He couldn’t put up with that right now. Not when every part of him felt like he’d just gotten run over by a Warthog… again.

“A-are you okay?! I mean… I-I know you’re not, but… umm… i-if you need me to go-.”

“No, wait,” he could barely raise his voice but he grasped Simmons’ hand before he could pull it away, “How… when did you…?”

“Do you… remember what happened?” Simmons asked carefully. Grif tried to think, focus. He remembered leaving to go meet with Kai, then he got struck in the head. By Gene. Yeah, Gene. Not Simmons. He was tied up… somewhere he didn’t know about. And he got… beat up. By Gene. A lot. Then he almost got out but after that...

“Fuuuck, can’t right now…Hurts too much...” 

He leaned back into the pillows. God, it felt nice. He now had a better comprehension of where he was. It was some kind of small, white-colored room. He was in some kind of bed which it and the nice-feeling pillows were keeping him propped up. The light was off, which was a relief since it felt like Sarge had shot him in the head. A hundred times over. No, a _thousand_. Yeah, that sounded right.

“Well, umm… y-you’re in the hospital,” started Simmons as his grip on the other’s hand loosened ever so slightly. “I… I found out where Gene was holing you at. I got there, and Sarge and others weren't that far behind. We… took Gene down, but you were....”

He stopped, but Grif could figure out the rest. They kicked the shit out of Gene, he was even more fucked up, and they somehow got him to the hospital before he bled to death. Simple enough.

“Then… what happened to Gene? I mean… don’t really give a shit, but-.”

“I don’t know,” Simmons replied. “I mean… I don’t know if he’s alive or not. He’s at some jail hospital I think. Doctor Gray said he shouldn’t be a bother to us though… "

Before Grif could question what that meant, Simmons was making his way over to some side table. There was some water jug there, and he filled it up before walking back and leaning down by him, but not looking directly at him.

“Here, you sound like shit.” 

He didn’t know if he bought that being the reason for the other’s sudden shift, but he didn’t argue as Simmons lifted the cup to his lips. God, it felt like _heaven_ He downed nearly half of it by the time Simmons pulled back. He still felt like shit, but his throat felt less like sandpaper at least.

“Umm… D-Doctor Gray said you had a concussion… and some broken ribs. And some pretty deep cuts.” the cyborg said slowly while setting the cup side. He was still averting his gaze from the other. “But… they should heal over time. You might be able to get discharged in a few days, depending on how well you’re doing. Sarge even said you healed ridiculously fast and that he hated it.”

Grif couldn’t hold back a smirk at that. But any amusement faded as Simmons walked away, this time over to the window. The orange soldier turned his gaze towards the ceiling as he lifted a hand-up to his face. He grunted slightly at the sting the action took, but he could feel the rough texture of the bandages across it. His arm was also wrapped up a good amount, which was probably the same with the other. He didn’t bother trying to see what anything else looked like, just letting his arm drop back to his side.

He and Simmons… had something happen that night. An argument over… something. Not the usual kind either like over Grif leaving his dirty clothes on the floor or sneaking snack cakes under the sofa to save for later. It was… bigger than that. He remembered that he and Simmons hadn’t been talking much up to that point, but the argument was over… it was over...

_‘Ah fuck it, thinking hurts too much right now…’_

Well, whatever it had been, it was likely his fault, right? Maybe that’s why Simmons was acting so weird aside from the obvious. Well… maybe getting that out of the way would at least make it feel less awkward. He took in a breath.

“Simmons, I-”

“I”m sorry.”

That got Grif to turn his head pretty damn fast, groaning as the effort made his head spin. Simmons was still looking out the window, his back facing him. The blinds were opened slightly with just enough sunlight going through for Grif to be able to make him out without too much strain.

He heard the cyborg make… some kind of noise. Kind of a choking noise. The kind he hadn’t heard out of him since he had caught him smashing mirrors back in Blood Gulch. The kind of repressed, broken sob that he tried to keep in, but it never worked. Looks like after all this time, that much hadn’t changed.

“I… I know that you… you probably don’t remember now. But… I-I was so fucking _stupid._ I… I was so upset about the… th-the Labryinth.It was… it was just so humiliating and… and I felt so fucking _stupid_ and embarrassed and… a-and I tried to ignore you even though you didn’t even fucking _do_ anything! _”_

Oh

_Oh_

Now he remembered. Simmons had stopped talking to him since that whole incident, and Grif was pissed at him. So _that’s_ what it had been about...

Simmons' voice had gotten shakier and shakier as he spoke. He could hardly conceal the broken sobs threatening to break their way through. His fists were clenched tightly on the windowsill and he could already feel the tears beginning to trail down his cheek. He had kept so much in. So much rage. So much fear. So much much _agony_ for days now, and he couldn’t take it anymore.

It was too much. Just _too much_.

“Simmons-.”

“I-if I hadn’t been such a self-conscious dumbass, none of this would have fucking happened! If I hadn't left Gene hanging over the pit, he would have been in jail! No, Hell! I should have just kicked his stupid, annoying ass _into_ the fucking lava!”

“ _Simmons-”_

“I should have… Goddamn, I‘m so _fucking_ pathetic! I couldn’t even handle fucking dick-stealing aliens in a fucking _illusion!_ I-I should have been able to figure that out! I should have been there with you that night instead of feeling sorry for myself! I… I-I should’ve-!”

“Oh for fuck's sake Simmons, _shut up!”_

Simmons turned around at the raised tone in time to see Grif clutch his head. The side that Gene had bashed in. Even with the injuries wrapped up, all the gashes and bruises hidden out of sight, Simmons could still see them. Still see the image of Grif tied up, slumped over. Laying on the ground. Motionless. _Lifeless._

He could barely see past the tears now.

“Okay, that was a bad idea.” The orange-soldier mumbled before turning to the other as much as his neck would allow. “Hey, get over here, would ya?”

He lifted an arm up as best as he could. Simmons knew what he was trying to do, but he hesitated. Grif had just woken up. It had been about three days now since they rescued him. He hadn’t mentioned that part yet, though. But it shouldn’t be _him_ needing to be comforted right now. Even if it was, it was all his fault anyways. He didn’t deserve it.

  
  


“I-”

“Simmons, I am not in the fucking mood to argue. So for once just shut up and get the fuck back over here.”

Any urge to protest any further died at that. He couldn’t argue with Grif. Not like this. It was too much to hold in anymore, anyways.

He made his way back to Grif’s side. He leaned his head down until it was resting over his chest. He couldn’t suppress the sobs anymore. Not even if he had wanted to. He allowed the floodgate to burst.

Grif remained still, only moving his arm to rest his palm against the other’s scalp. He didn’t really know what he could say or do. Probably nothing. So he just stayed in place as he listened to the muffled cries and the endless amount of ‘I’m sorry!’s in between. His fingers trailed lightly over the short red locks. It was the most comforting motion that he could make at the moment. Not that he had been capable of much even before then…

He didn’t know how long they had stayed like that. Felt like forever. But soon, Simmons slowly raised himself back up while wiping at his eye. He still looked like a mess, not like Grif was one to talk. But he looked… calmer? Better? He didn’t know. Less of an emotional wreck, at the very least.

“Grif, I-I...”

“If you say ‘I’m sorry’ again, I will punch you in the fucking face.” He mumbled. “Which right now, that would _really_ fucking hurt, so don’t make me do that.”

“But...” Simmons stopped, remaining quiet for a moment before speaking up again, “Okay. Umm… i-is there anything else you want?”

“...actually, yeah. There is one thing I really want right now.”

The two locked eyes. Grif didn’t need to say anymore, Simmons already knew. He made his way over to the front of the bed where Grif was propped up, leaning down as carefully as possible. Grif slid his eyes close just as a pair of lips met his own. The cyborg's hand found it’s way to his again, his touch so light. As though he was afraid of breaking him. It would annoy Grif on any other day, but right now? He appreciated the amount of care that he was displaying.

Not like he’d ever say that out loud, of course.

They stayed that way for a few moments. Grif wanted to press in more. He had missed this _so_ much. But he knew that his body wasn’t going to allow it. When Simmons finally pulled back, he didn’t go far as he gently pressed their temple’s together. Not too hard to not disturb the bruises, but it was enough to make Grif happy as he leaned into it.

“Hey,” He started. “For whats it’s worth, sounds like you were pretty badass coming to save me all by yourself. That’s macho as fuck.”

Simmons snickered at that. That was a relief. He’d rather have that than sobbing Simmons.

“That was so fucking stupid. Almost got both of us killed. He even stabbed me and nearly shut my systems down, the fucker.”

“Oh shit. So you have like robo-scars now?

“Robots can’t get scars, Grif.”

“How do you know? You never had any until now. They totally could. Robo scars sound sexy as fuck. We should check out Lopez when I get the fuck out of here.”

“Oh _God_ you’re a fucking idiot.”

“Takes one to know one Simmons.

They both laughed at that. Simmons leaned back up, planting a light kiss on Grif’s non-bandaged cheek, then another in the middle of his forehead. He made a pleased noise as Simmons straightened himself back up. Their fingers were still intertwined. The dread was finally beginning to lift off his chest. They were going to be okay. Grif was going to be okay. They were both here. They were safe.

“Think I’m gonna take a nap now.” sad Grif as he settled back against the pillows. “Feelin’ tired.”

“Yeah, that sounds good. I’ll let you rest then.” He began to pull away, only for Grif’s grip to tighten.

“Wait.” He looked back up at his lover with totally not-pleading eyes. “Can… can you stay? I… I mean you can go if you want. I just… you know…”

He didn’t need to say it. He didn’t want to be alone. Simmons didn’t even bother questioning it, letting go only long enough to pull up a chair by his side. Once he was sat down, he took Grif’s hand again, raising it just enough to plant another kiss. Grif felt his cheeks flush.

“I’ll be here when you wake up.”

“Ugh… g-great! Cool! Ugh...th-thank!”

“No problem. Now go the fuck to sleep”

No argument there. Grif slid his eyes close, feeling Simmons' thumb trailing over the top of his hand. Sappy nerd. He wouldn’t have it any other way.

“Love you Simmons”

“Love you too Grif. Love you too.”

Grif finally allowed sleep to claim him, feeling safe and warm with Simmons’ hand in his.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's a wrap! Wow, this was... dark. Moreso than I had intended. Hopefully, the fluffy ending was enough to help make up for it though. But yeah, completed both m first multi-chapter fic and my first Bad Things Happen Bingo prompt! I'm already planning out the second one, which will be much less dark but still pretty heavy in the emotional department. But that's for the future. Thank you all so much for reading, and I hope that you enjoyed it!


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